


in search of excellence (or something like it)

by amorekay



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Blow Jobs, Communication, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Felix Hugo Fraldarius is a Mess, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-War, Sexual Mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/pseuds/amorekay
Summary: Felix comes to the slow, horrifying realization that he’s really bad at this. It’s humiliating, because he’s conquered every physical challenge he’s ever been faced with, priding himself in his skill and ability, and now he’s going to be—mediocre, atthis, of all things?Unacceptable.So, he’s going to tackle this the same way he would with any other skill: with a strict training regimen until he masters it. Obviously.





	in search of excellence (or something like it)

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of awkward bj mishaps in this, some detailed, some not. There's also a single line that may deserve a emetephobia warning, though it's not particularly graphic. 
> 
> Writing a good portion of this fic cracked me up, please enjoy.

The first time Felix gets his mouth on Dimitri’s dick, Dimitri—shocked and surprised snaps his hips forward and summarily chokes Felix so badly that they have to cease all further activity until he can breathe and Dimitri can stop apologizing. Profusely. The second time, Felix manages to catch his teeth roughly on Dimitri and gets a knee in the face—and they have to cease all further activity until his head stops ringing and Dimitri can stop apologizing. Profusely. The third time, miraculously, no one gets injured but it seems to be taking so long that Felix’s jaw locks up and Dimitri _still_ hasn’t come. The fourth time, well. It could have been worse. 

Felix comes to the slow, horrifying realization that he’s really bad at this. It’s humiliating, because he’s conquered every physical challenge he’s ever been faced with, priding himself in his skill and ability, and now he’s going to be—mediocre, at _this_, of all things? 

Unacceptable. 

So, he’s going to tackle this the same way he would with any other skill: with a strict training regimen until he masters it. Obviously. 

***

The first thing he needs to do is find Dimitri, who has a habit of wandering away and getting pulled in five different directions at once, apologizing to one demanding party when another shows up with another request for his attention, until he’s been all over the castle and had his hands in even the most insignificant of going-ons because everyone wants the approval and say-so of the king. Felix has told him, more than once, that most of those nuisances aren’t even under his official duties, and they only get away with asking for his help with it because he’s too damn willing, but Dimitri looks so happy every time he can help even a little. 

Predictably, he finds him surrounded by kitchen staff in the corridor outside the dining hall, where he seems to be picking out placemats, of all things, small squares of fabric looking dwarfed in his hands as he peers at them thoughtfully. 

Felix stops next to him, hands on his hips, and frowns. 

“Duke Fraldarius!” A staff member greets him, and Dimitri looks up and smiles at him.

“I need to train with you, come on.” 

“Hm? Ah, you want to spar? Do I need to get my—” 

“No. It's—sword practice,” he says, shortly, and then winces at himself. “Come on, Dimitri, let’s go.” 

Dimitri politely hands the sample squares back to the woman he’s talking to, and says something about how he’s honestly useless at this kind of thing, he’s quite sorry, he should leave the choices in the eyes of those more qualified for such elegant things, and makes his mostly-graceful escape, trailing after Felix as he marches quickly away to hide his burning face. 

“Felix, honestly. Please wait up!”

***

It’s not until they’re in Felix’s quarters and Felix is on his knees, wrestling with the clasps of Dimitri’s trousers, that Dimitri says, “Oh, I suppose we aren’t training after all?” 

Felix, pleasantly occupied by the thought of the victory he's surely about to claim, abruptly wants to hit Dimitri instead. Instead he pulls him free from his smallclothes and runs his hand down the length of him, Dimitri already clearly more than a little interested in the proceedings despite his surprise. 

Felix grips him by the hips, drawing Dimitri forward and getting his lips around him, strange to adjust to even as Dimitri is still reacting and hardening against his tongue. He tries to watch his teeth, tries to keep his jaw from aching, tries to find some kind of rhythm even as the whole thing still feels so frustratingly unintuitive. 

“Oh,” Dimitri says, breath hitching slightly as Felix changes tack. He lets out a chuckle. “I understand, this is what you meant by sword practice—ah, hah, of course. Very clever.”

Felix very suddenly wants to scream because there is clearly something he’s doing wrong if Dimitri can still be, idiotically and belatedly, musing about embarrassing innuendo. He glares up at him and Dimitri smiles back, reaching down to brush a strand of hair away from his face. 

“I’ll have to remember that,” he says, cheerful. 

Felix grips his hips harder and pulls off, pushing Dimitri back a little and frowning up at him. This is clearly already a useless attempt, but he’d rather get stabbed than walk away in total defeat. He’s been stabbed, he can take it. 

“Felix?” Dimitri asks, “is something the matter?”

“Don’t ask me that,” he snaps. “Is something the _matter_ with this?”

“Ah! No, it was nice.”

“Nice,” Felix repeats, flatly. 

“Is that not—you’re always amazing, you know. I’m so grateful, that—“

“Dimitri,” Felix says, cutting him off. “Don’t try to flatter me.” 

He curls a hand around Dimitri, who inhales a soft little breath. “Clearly,” Felix says, running his fingers up the length of him, “I’m not good enough at _that_, yet.”

“That’s not—" Dimitri protests, and then cuts off into a satisfying little groan when Felix does the thing with his fingers that he _knows_ he likes. He shoots Dimitri a ‘look, see? I know you were lying’ glance and Dimitri smiles helplessly. 

“Don’t you dare placate me. Don’t even try to compliment me until I’ve mastered it.” 

“Felix,” Dimitri starts, trying to keep the conversation going between pants, Felix’s hand fast at work, “This is… romance, our—ah, goodness, our expression of our love for each other, you don’t need to prove or—ah, master anything.”

Felix frowns at him in disbelief, then shakes his head, grinning wildly. “This is a _skill_, and I’m going to win at it.” 

Dimitri comes. 

***

Attempts five (as evidenced, no success), six (mediocre, again) and seven (by this point, he’s getting really frustrated) are all utter failures. 

***

For attempt eight, he has a new plan. Dimitri’s standing in front of him, trousers and smallclothes kicked off after rather ungracefully being tugged past his boots, crumpled in heap near them in the warm, hearth-lit room. All of him is standing at attention. 

Felix stares him down, feeling irritated, cursing his own uncooperative throat.

“Felix…” Dimitri says, reaching out for him and Felix bats his hand away. Dimitri makes a strange, hurt little sound that Felix barely registers, preoccupied with glaring at the full length of him in front of him. The thing is—there’s. A lot of him. He’s sure if he could just take _all_ of him down it’d be a pretty damn effective feat, but.

“I’m a warrior,” he declares. “This is nothing.” 

“Felix—what?” Dimitri starts, but Felix leans in and takes him in his mouth, pressing forward as he grips his hands against Dimitri’s hips. 

Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, his throat protests as he tries to relax, Dimitri lets out a strangled moan and Felix feels the sharpest sense of satisfaction that would have him grinning if he wasn’t trying to take all of Dimitri in his mouth right now—

And then, all at once, it goes very badly. 

Somehow, the deja vu of doubling over on his hands and knees, coughing and sputtering while Dimitri hovers over him, makes it feel a whole lot worse. Felix fights the wave of nausea and bile with all his resolve and manages to not retch and ruin the incredibly extravagant and probably extraordinarily old rug in Dimitri’s sitting room quarters. 

“How are you feel—are you okay?” Dimitri asks, still hovering, looking incredibly silly in just his shirt and boots with that dopey expression on his face. Felix starts mechanically gathering up his own jacket and gloves. “Do you need me to—”

Dimitri’s lost his erection. Honestly, Felix isn’t feeling too into it right now, anyway. 

“No,” Felix says, face burning. “Whatever. I’m going now. Bye.” 

***

Needless to say, it takes some time before Felix can gather himself together and put attempt nine into action. Dimitri is incredibly tense, and at first Felix think it’s just because of the previous hideously embarrassing debacle, but Dimitri never relaxes into it and even when he finally comes, he manages to seem half-hearted and unenthused about it. Felix is still trying to figure out what the hell is going on when Dimitri gets a hand around him and gets him off in turn, smiling sadly and distantly the whole time. 

It really, really bothers him.

It bothers him so much that the next day Felix goes looking for him, sent on a goose chase by staff who’d caught sight of him until he’s circled all the way back around to Dimitri’s own quarters, where he’s apparently shut himself away to concentrate on paperwork. This, Felix and everyone else knows, translates to locking himself in his room to mope. 

He lets Felix in without protest, and Felix frowns up at him, hand on his hip. “So.”

“Yes, Felix?” Dimitri says, and he still has that sad smile on. 

Felix cuts straight to it, sure Dimitri will know what he’s talking about. “What was _that_ last time? If you really aren’t into it, you should just tell me, not humor me out of pity. Or am I so bad it’s making you _uncomfortable_?”

“No! Felix…” Dimitri hesitates. He frowns and then starts to pace around the room, rubbing at his eyepatch like he does sometimes when he’s shaken. “I fear I have not been fully truthful, it’s true. I’m feeling … disconnected from you.” 

It sends a cold chill down Felix’s spine, the old phantom of Dimitri slipping away from him, _again_, hovering suddenly over his thoughts, but Dimitri turns around and steps closer. And this close, Felix can see the blush rising on his cheeks. 

“I would like… to touch and kiss you more, if that is all right. It seems you get so—ah, focused, on this… new goal, that I have no chance to ease into it and really feel… my desire for you. And Felix,” he smiles, something about his expression almost bittersweet in its openness. It sends a pang of guilt through Felix. “I have so much desire for you, truly.” 

Embarrassment, relief, frustration, and affection hit him all at once, leaving him reeling and unsure how to react, flustered and warmed. He looks away from Dimitri and bites back his first sharp reply, clenching his fists at his sides. He stares down at the floor, and says, “I want it to be good for you.” 

“Felix,” Dimitri says. “Simply the fact that it is you is more than enough for me.” 

“That’s not good enough,” Felix snaps. 

Dimitri waves a dismissive hand, a simple gesture, and smiles. “It always has been.” 

Felix presses his fist against his cheek and breathes out. “Well, fine,” he concedes, and tables the emotions churning in his gut to pick apart at a later time—he still came here with a goal, and he intends to achieve it. “That doesn’t help me though. You wanted to—touch more. What do you want?”

“What I want… Anything?” Dimitri asks, stepping even closer. He looks very thoughtful, then reaches out and doesn’t quite touch Felix, his hand hovering by his face. “Ah, maybe, your hair down? It’s so…”

“Fine,” Felix says, and reaches up to start undoing his hair. Dimitri watches, a little reverent, and reaches out to run a hand through the hair that falls to frame his face. 

Felix frowns, and tilts his chin up at him. “I still won’t settle for being anything less than the best, you know.” 

Dimitri chuckles. “Hah, of course.” His voice softens, his fingers still playing with strands of Felix’s hair. “I would expect nothing else.” 

“And if we’re all sorted, I’d like to get back to that.” 

Dimitri bends down and kisses him, fingers slipping from his hair to curl around the side of his neck, warm against Felix’s skin. He kisses back, and then lays his hands on Dimitri’s chest and pushes, walking him back until they reach the bed. “Sit down.”

Dimitri does as he’s told quite happily, then reaches with one of those damnably long arms across the length of the bed and grabs a pillow, very politely setting it on the floor as a cushion for Felix’s knees—and, honest to Seiros, smirks at him. Felix ignores the pillow and climbs onto the bed, straddling his lap, and wraps his hands around Dimitri’s neck to kiss that stupid smirk off his face. 

“This time,” he says, pulling back. “I won’t let you think of anything else.”

“Of course, Felix,” Dimitri says and, well—if he isn’t convinced yet, he’s going to be. Felix kisses him again, biting sharp against his bottom lip until Dimitri groans and then soothing it with the slow swipe of his tongue. His hands wrap around Felix’s waist, thumbs running over the small of his back, and Felix shivers. 

“I’m serious,” Felix says, grabbing onto Dimitri’s forearms and pulling himself free from his grasp. Dimitri’s hand goes up to his face and he bites at his thumb, then slips from his lap to drop to his knees, running his hands over Dimitri’s thighs. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m in your hands,” Dimitri replies, very seriously, pun only betrayed by the smile he’s doing a poor job of hiding. Felix, about to palm Dimitri’s growing response through his trousers, freezes.

“I’m not rewarding that,” he says. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Oh?” Dimitri asks, totally innocent. “How curious, I thought that was the intention.”

Felix leans in and presses his mouth against the shape of him through his trousers, mouthing his way up the length of it—effectively cutting Dimitri off. He can feel the way Dimitri’s thighs tense under his hands and hear the way his breathing changes. It makes him grin, to have this much of a command over him. “Felix…”

He sucks a damp spot into the fabric as Dimitri groans, then sits back and runs his hands across Dimitri’s thighs, rubbing a palm across his erection as he moves to undo his trousers. “That was enough to shut you up? Pathetic,” he says, with a smirk, tugging both layers down his hips, Dimitri shifting to help him along, “I’m not even _trying_ yet,” and it makes him burn with delicious heat to see the way Dimitri’s erection jumps in response. 

“Yeah,” Felix says. Dimitri groans.

Felix reaches down and cups him in one hand, thumb running over the soft skin, his other hand curling around the base of his erection, and leans forward to part his lips over the flushed head. 

“Can I touch you?” Dimitri asks, and the desire in his voice sends a thrill of satisfaction through Felix. He pulls back and grins at up Dimitri.

“You want to put your hands in my hair?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Come on, then.” Dimitri’s fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck and then tangle up the sides of his head, sending little tingles of sensation down Felix’s scalp. Actually, this is nice. “You can—,” Felix lifts up a hand and grabs Dimitri’s wrist, tugging it a little and feeling the pull on his own hair. Hm, also nice. “...do that.” 

Before Dimitri can reply and ruin it, he leans forward and wraps his fingers around him again, pressing his lips to the tip of his erection and curling his tongue against the soft, heavy weight of him as he takes him in. While he’s concentrating and distracted, Dimitri gives his hair a speculative, sharp little tug. It sends a jolt of arousal through Felix and he whines in the back of his throat, Dimitri’s fingers still clutching his hair. 

“Felix,” Dimitri breathes, and he’s still talking more than Felix would like but he’s undeniably breathless. “Felix, you look so good like this.” 

The weight and taste of Dimitri against his tongue is satisfyingly present—and more than familiar by now, but he’s never gotten a reaction like this. He relishes the power he has over Dimitri right now, when every little groan and hitched breath is so obviously drawn out by what he’s doing. It’s fucking exhilarating.

It’s also exhilarating to pull back and trace the tip of him with his tongue, listen to the way Dimitri moans, and then draw back entirely and watch as Dimitri’s hips chase after him, moving of their own accord, helpless until he presses against them with his hands and swallows Dimitri back down, as far he can comfortably go. 

Dimitri’s hands in his hair tighten as he gasps, voice low as he groans something incoherent, Felix barely paying attention anymore as he works him, sucking and bobbing, his own arousal getting more and more insistent. He moans high and desperate around Dimitri, and pain sparks sharp and pleasant up his scalp as Dimitri’s fingers pull down hard as he comes, warmth suddenly flooding Felix’s mouth. 

*** 

So attempt number ten is a success. It’s possible he chokes a little, and Dimitri pulls his hair so hard he sees stars, and clean up is messier than expected, but Felix doesn’t fucking care. He totally won. Dimitri’s dick? Only satisfied by _this_ mouth. 

***

“Hmmm,” Dimitri hums, curled around him on the sheets, and Felix doesn’t trust the grin on his face at all. “I would give that a… B-plus? Perhaps? I’m quite sure there is room for improvement still.”

Felix smacks him on the shoulder. “Be quiet. You just want me to do that again.” 

“Maybe.” Dimitri’s grin is decidedly wicked. “After all, you did work _so hard_ to make it good for me.” 

“Obviously,” Felix says, yawning, perfectly satisfied for the moment, not even able to get riled up. “I’m the _best_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Dimitri and Felix for both being complete fucking idiots, I love them. 
> 
> Also shoutout to [leporidae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporidae/pseuds/leporidae), who helpfully supplied a good portion of Felix's very in-character sex dialogue for this fic and thus this fic wouldn't exist (or be as funny) without their contributions. Please, go thank them and check out their own excellent fics. (And thanks from me personally to you for also being my rather rude but invaluable moral support as always /laughing.) 
> 
> I'm at twitter @[amorekays](https://twitter.com/amorekays) and you can retweet this fic directly [here](https://twitter.com/amorekays/status/1182664041522749440)!


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